


What Love Sounds Like

by remuslives23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslives23/pseuds/remuslives23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent - Victor Hugo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Love Sounds Like

What Love Sounds Like

Sirius's hand moved in a graceful arc, dragging the end of the buttercup-yellow chalk over the rough cement as he created a rough staff. He grinned as he drew a clef, finishing the symbol with an unnecessary, but artistic flourish before he began his notations. Brown and red leaves tumbled across his efforts and he absently brushed them away, his mind already forming a simple melody, his fingers already creating the impromptu score. He was sure that McGonagall would have his head for defacing the ancient stones of Hogwarts with his sheet music, but one had to take inspiration as one found it.

And he had found it on this cool fall day in a form most unusual.

His eyes flicked up, searching the grounds for his unexpected muse, and he smiled fondly when he caught sight of long, flailing limbs. Sirius watched, entranced, as a lean, gangly boy spun and laughed amongst the fallen leaves, his movements a little stiff but oddly graceful – like a child who hadn't played for a long time, and was just remembering how. His laugh was hesitant, as if he was afraid of letting go, but the uncertain sound was all the more beautiful because Sirius knew that to even allow himself to be this unrestrained was an effort on Remus' behalf.

Sirius' stomach twisted like the leaves on the wind, tossed to and fro, at the mercy of the changing gusts as he continued to observe Remus' antics. He watched as, eventually, Remus' movements became smoother, his laughter less forced, his smile more genuine. Gradually, the other boy let his walls fall down, let his inhibitions go – and Sirius forgot how to breathe. To see Remus like this, so free, so happy, was a gift, and Sirius grabbed it with both hands, holding tight to the moment that he, and only he, was witness to. Music filled his head, soaring as his heart beat faster, and blood rushed through his veins.

He tore his eyes from Remus and looked down at the notes he'd filled in. He frowned then erased one with his sleeve, trying the altered tune out and nodding to himself as he made the corrections. He hummed out the melody, tapping the tempo on his thigh with his glove-covered fingers and he smiled. It was light and spontaneous and lively – words he would never have used to describe Remus before today, but as Sirius sang softly to himself, providing the soundtrack for Remus' dance, he knew that it was _perfect_ for this moment, for _this_ Remus who was, for the first time, unguarded and vital.

This was the music of Moony, a concerto set to the freedom and joy he could see in Remus' eyes as he danced about, scarf streaming out behind him, under the falling leaves. It was an ode to letting go, to allowing oneself to hang onto one's childhood for just that little bit longer before time stepped in and stole it for good. It was a song about hope, and freedom, and happiness and, Sirius realised as he abandoned his composition to join Remus in his dance, it was a song about falling in love.

_fin._


End file.
